


Sight

by juniperberry



Category: xxxHoLic
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-18
Updated: 2021-02-18
Packaged: 2021-03-13 10:55:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29525370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/juniperberry/pseuds/juniperberry
Summary: Watanuki has always had some sort of Sight.
Relationships: Doumeki Shizuka/Watanuki Kimihiro
Kudos: 14





	Sight

**Author's Note:**

> Written sometime in 2007, so this is completely derailed by a lot of the later canon happenings.

Kimihiro liked to cook. The blending of ingredients, the way they mixed and created something unique and tasty—it was like magic. It was likely the closest to magic he’d ever get, if he were lucky.

“I’m home,” Shizuka said. The door clicked shut and Kimihiro smiled over his shoulder.

“Welcome back,” he said. “I’ve made some miso shiro soup and some onigiri and sushi.” He could here the soft thunks of Shizuka’s sneakers hitting the floor of the genkan. 

“Inari sushi?”

“You’ve had too much inari sushi lately,” Kimihiro said. “These are California rolls.”

“Hmm.” Shizuka wrapped his arms around Kimihiro’s waist. “How was your day?”

“Fine. Kakei-san let me off early, as I wasn’t feeling well.”

“What’s wrong?” There was a rumble in Shizuka’s voice, a protective growl.

“I…caught a glimpse of myself. In some tea this time.” Kimihiro stirred the soup with one hand and covered one of Shizuka’s with the other. “It left me a little shaken.”

“What did you see?”

“Myself, and…fire. All around me, with no escape route.” He leaned back a little. “And no Shizuka to save my ass, either.”

“Hmph.” Warm breath ghosted over his collarbone. “Not the case here, I assure you.”

“I know.” He smiled to himself. “Make yourself useful, you bottomless pit, and get out some dishes so we can eat.”

Shizuka moved to do so. He reached up into a cabinet to pull out some ceramic dishes. “Are you sure soup is a good idea?” 

“It’ll be fine. I’ve never had two visions in one day; and most of the time it isn’t even one.” While he loved Shizuka dearly, Kimihiro would be the first to point out that he was an overprotective mother hen, in his own way. “I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

Shizuka didn’t respond to that, but set their small table with the dishes. Kimihiro arranged the California rolls and onigiri on a tray and handed it to his partner to put on the table, and followed it with the pot of soup and the container of miso. He made their soup and handed a bowl to Shizuka, and began to ladle some broth into his own bowl. He stopped with only half the liquid poured.

He saw himself, but it wasn’t him. He wore contacts, not glasses; he was wearing a t-shirt and jeans under his apron, not a school uniform; and his eyes were both blue, not mismatched.

His other self, reflected back to him in the soup, was running. A monster—something large and cloud-like, with arms and eyes too numerous to count—floated after him, reaching for him. Kimihiro could almost feel its wanting, like hunger or thirst. Apparently his other self could not only feel that hunger, but see it as well; he glanced over his shoulder a couple of times, and put on speed when he saw the monster was still following. Distantly Kimihiro was impressed; he never had any reason to run that fast, and he never knew he could be capable of that sort of speed.

The other Watanuki—Kimihiro never thought of them by his first name, it was too creepy—ran towards an empty field. Strangely, though, the moment he crossed the threshold between the field and the pavement, a house bloomed into existence; old fashioned, with crescent moon spires and a garden. Kimihiro only glimpsed it for a moment before his attention was drawn to a woman with long hair, a lean body, eyes that met his own. Eyes that saw him.

“You have a visitor,” she said. His other self looked confused. 

“I thought I left it at the gate,” he said. He was panting. 

“You left that visitor at the gate,” she said. Her eyes had not wavered from Kimihiro’s. “Watanuki, go make me something sweet. Cupcakes, or scones. Something sweet and crumbly, that goes good with whiskey.”

His other self sputtered something about drinking too much, but did as he was told. Kimihiro felt a wave of nausea overcome him as he watched as his other self left, and the woman still held his eyes.

“You have a unique ability,” she said. “And it’s subtle enough, and restricted enough, that most people like me would not ever notice it.” She smiled a little. “And you have Doumeki-kun to take care of you.”

“How…how can….”

“I’ve known Watanuki for a long time,” she said. “Time flows differently between dimensions, Kimihiro-kun. You won’t have too many more visions, if all goes well.” 

“I—I don’t understand….”

“It’s best if you don’t,” she said. “For your sake, though, you might want to drink out of those plastic sports bottles for a while, and avoid gathered liquid. You’re very sensitive to water scrying.”

“Oh….”

“You’d best go now,” she said gently. “You’re at your limit. We may see each other again, Kimihiro-kun; please remember that I like sake and sweet things.”

“Wait!” he said. “Your…your Watanuki…is he okay? I’ve only ever seen them die….”

She tilted her head to the side. “Our Watanuki has many people who love him,” she said at last. “And he has Doumeki-kun to protect him. He has many people committed to making sure he lives. Sleep well, Kimihiro-kun.”

And then she was gone, along with the weird house and his other self, and he was staring up at the ceiling, which was partially blocked by Shizuka bending over him.

“Kimihiro? Are you all right?”

“Yeah,” he said, and his voice was weak. “I…I don’t think I should have any soup,” he said. Shizuka nodded.

“I thought the soup was a bad idea,” he said. Kimihiro didn’t even have the energy to tell him to shut up. He grabbed Shizuka’s hand and held on while his partner helped him up.

“You know,” he said at last, still dizzy, “the one thing my visions have had in common was death. That didn’t happen this time.”

“Don’t talk,” Shizuka said. “You need to rest.” He helped Kimihiro onto the futon, untying his apron and tugging off the kerchief. “Get under the covers.”

“The other thing they had in common,” Kimihiro said, “was that you were never there.” He felt Shizuka’s hand on his forehead. “You were never there. But this time…there was a woman. And she said that…that my other self had you there for him. That he had lots of people who wanted him to live.” 

Shizuka’s hand ran through his hair. “Take out your contacts,” he said. “They’ll irritate your eyes if you don’t.”

“Mmm.” Kimihiro removed his contacts, and only got them into their container with Shizuka’s help. “Eat your lunch,” he said, “and come lay down with me. I’ll feel better if you’re here.”

“Go to sleep, Kimihiro,” Shizuka said gently. “I’ll be here.”

“Good,” Kimihiro said. “I…I’m safe if you’re here…I think that’s what she was trying to tell me.”

“Go to sleep,” Shizuka said again. Kimihiro obeyed this time, grateful that he never saw visions in his dreams.


End file.
